


Just Another Wednesday

by Lisgreomg



Series: Wedding In Vermont [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisgreomg/pseuds/Lisgreomg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony always knew this was going to happen. He was always going to kiss Gibbs and then get his heart broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> Still intimidated by AO3, but I'm getting over it. Let me know about any mistakes! This is my personal favorite of this series, even if it is super angsty.

It’s just another Wednesday.

Tony will think, later, days later, that that actually makes sense. Because they’ve been blown up and left for dead and gotten fucking  _amnesia_  and been stabbed and gotten the  _plague_  and had to perform concurrent CPR on two bodies and been shot at too many times to count.

So obviously, drama and near-death wasn’t going to push them over the edge. If it was going to it would have done it way back in 2001 when he was hired.

So it does make sense that it’s just another Wednesday.

They finish up a case that day, a suspicious death of a petty officer that turned out to involve a back-from-the-dead half brother, a Doberman, and a stalker (and it probably says a lot about them that this isn’t even in the running for strangest case ever). Wednesday had been an utterly normal day, paperwork and teasing, and McGee got his fingers mysteriously glued to his keyboard again. They all left around seven, after doing most of their paperwork, and Tony had been planning a nice quiet night at home with the Bond marathon on AMC.

But somehow, he’d ended up in Gibbs’s basement instead.

Tony doesn’t remember the drive, doesn’t remember walking into the house even. And he’s still not sure he actually ever made the conscious decision to come over here. One second it was all ‘Is it really worth it to watch this marathon with commercials when I already own all the DVDs?’ and the next he’s on Gibbs’s basement steps, watching him sand the newest boat.

Gibbs looks up about fifteen seconds after Tony has become conscious of his body again, considers him for a moment before putting away the hand sander and asking, “Drink?”

Tony licks his lips slowly, still coming to terms with how he got here, and  _why_  he’s here. Gibbs moves to the stairs, brushing past him, and Tony’s hand snaps out, gripping Gibbs’s shirt to keep him still before he moves in and presses their mouths together, warm and easy.

There’s no pause, no half second for them to deal with surprise, because they  _both_  knew this was coming, there’s just heat and tongue and a sensation that this is  _right_. Then Tony’s being pressed back against the wall and he makes a sound deep in his chest, pressing himself against every inch of Gibbs that he can reach. He buries his hands in Gibbs’s hair, holding him close, half afraid that he’s going to step away at some point, that this will be a mistake.

Stepping away seems to be the last thing on Gibbs’s mind though, thankfully, and he makes a low sound deep in his chest, making Tony shudder, and melt further against the wall. Gibbs grips his shoulders then, dragging him up the stairs, without letting their mouths separate for more than the time it takes for them to shed both their shirts. Tony is aware that he’s making small, desperate noises against Gibbs’s mouth, but he can’t seem to stop himself. It’s been _years_ , almost ten years that he’s wanted this, and the want has turned into something desperate and aching in the pit of his stomach. He can’t actually believe it’s really happening. That Gibbs is actually kissing him like this.

They slam into a wall too hard and Tony can’t help the ‘ow’ that slips into the space between their mouths, but refuses to stop kissing, and Gibbs huffs a laugh against his mouth, smile curling so close that Tony can  _feel_  it, and just like that they’re both laughing between kisses, giddy and happy, and they make it upstairs without further injury. Gibbs shoves him onto the bed, and he laughs as he lands, and then it’s a race to get pants off. And just like that Gibbs is pressing down against him, and they’re gloriously naked, and Tony shudders hard at the feeling of all that skin sliding together. Their mouths meet again, easy and simple as they rock together, friction lighting Tony up from the inside out, and he whines soft in the back of his throat as Gibbs stops moving, “ _Gibbs_.”

He laughs then soft, tucking it against Tony’s throat like a secret, “Jethro, Tony. Call me Jethro.”

Against all odds Tony laughs at that, smiling wide and brilliant, sliding his fingers through Gibbs’s –  _Jethro’s_  hair, “I can’t call you that. It’s a ridiculous name.”

G-Jethro snorts against his neck, bites hard, making him shudder, “Not my fault.”

Tony laughs again, happiness inflating in his heart like a balloon, and everything about this is wonderful, “I’ll call you Jeth. Fits you better.” Jeth raises an eyebrow at him, and Tony grins wide and blinding, and Jeth laughs, leaning in to kiss him lightly.

“Alright. Can we have sex now?”

Tony laughs again, and he has never been this happy  _in his life_ , “Sure.” He leans up to start the kissing again, nipping playfully at Jeth’s bottom lip.

A second later all the air rushes out of his lungs as Jeth wraps a hand around them both, and starts to stroke. Tony’s spine curls out, and he  _moans_  as he thrusts into it, hands scrabbling at any skin he can reach, pulling Jeth in closer. Jeth has moved to his chest, nipping and kissing, without a plan, and it’s  _wonderful_. Tony feels like he’s going to explode with it, and he’s surprised there’s not like, light spilling out of his pores, he’s  _so fucking happy_.

One of the calluses on Jeth’s fingers hits him just right and he comes with a gasp, dragging their mouths back together to kiss him through it, moaning and trembling against his mouth. Which means he gets to  _feel_  it when Jeth comes as well, releasing a soft gasp against his lips, even as something wet and warm sprays over his hip. Jeth shudders a little when he’s finished, collapsing against Tony’s chest, and Tony sweeps his hands up and down his back, loving the fact that he  _can._

They trade lazy kisses until they fall asleep, mouths still pressed gently together.

***

The next morning Tony wakes up alone, and it takes him half a second to remember where he is, and when he does a grin splits across his face, and he laughs into the empty room.

He stretches a little, happy and indulgent with it, stokes the sheets on Jeth’s bed. God, if there was a top ten list of the places he’d never thought he’d be. He smiles until he feels the itching around his hip and he grimaces a bit at the dried come, before jumping out of bed and going to the bathroom. He’s stayed at Gibb-  _Jeth’s_  place – and God that name thing is strange, he doesn’t  _look_  like a Jethro, he looks like a Gibbs. But Tony knows that you can’t really sleep with someone and call them by their last name the whole time, it’s just strange. So Gibbs doesn’t look like a Jethro, but he also doesn’t look like a  _Leroy_  or even worse, Lee, so Tony’ll just have to get used to Jeth. {Plus, every time he hears Jethro he thinks of Jenny saying it in that fondly exasperated way she had, and this relationship has enough ghosts without inviting in more} [plus, it’s possible Tony’s thought about what to call Gibbs in bed for longer than is sane – anyway, the point is he’s stayed here enough times that he knows where everything is and he’s in and out of the shower in 10 minutes, humming happily to himself when he finds some hair gel that he left here last time. He grabs his clothes and bounds down the stairs, hoping to get some breakfast or something.

He slows to a stop when he sees Jeth sitting on the couch, and the air is heavy with something horrible, and a part of Tony  _knows_  what’s coming, just from the way Gibbs (and he is Gibbs right now, that much is painfully obvious) is frowning into his coffee and the tight way he’s holding himself. Somewhere in the base of his brain a voice starts chanting  _No no no please no_ , and he cuts Gibbs off before he gets out more then, “Tony –“

“No. No Gibbs,  _Jethro_ , you can’t do this. You  _can’t_  okay?  _Please_   _don’t_.”

Gibbs won’t look at him, grips his coffee cup tightly, ignores him completely “We can’t do this Tony. It’s just – it’s not a good idea.”

Tony falls to his knees in front of him, reaching out to touch him, trying to get him to  _look_  at him, realizes he’s begging, but can’t even begin to care, desperately, “Don’t do this.”

Gibbs pulls out of his grip, and stands, and Tony is left there on the floor, staring at the couch in numb horror, and he hears the words from behind him like he’s underwater, just catching phrases, “We can’t . . .” “the team . . .” “Rule 12.”

 _That_  makes him angry, and he stands and turns, hands clenched at his sides, “Rule 12? Are you  _kidding_? That’s what you’re hiding behind?”

There’s no emotion on Gibbs’s face, and there’s none in his voice either, and Tony realizes with a sick jerk that he’s getting the same brush off Gibbs uses when he has to talk to politicians, “I’m not hiding behind anything DiNozzo.”

Tony grits his teeth against the purposeful insult of his last name, hisses out a breath, “That’s  _exactly_  what you’re doing! Look Jeth, I  _know_  that you have issues,  _believe me_ ,I know. And I’ve got my own shit, and blah blah blah whatever. But you  _can’t_  just throw this away before we even had a  _chance_.” Gibbs just shakes his head, still not looking at him, and Tony’s getting desperate, grasps at any straw available to him, “What if I left the team?”

He’s  _slammed_  suddenly against the wall, Gibbs pressing up against him hard, and Gibbs  _grinds_  it out from teeth clenched so tight they probably  _hurt_ , “You  _will not_  leave the team DiNozzo. Not over this. I won’t let you.”

Tony  _shoves_  him away, “Won’t  _let me_? Who died and made you God Gibbs?”

Gibbs shoves back, frustrated beyond belief, snaps it out like it’s a mandate from the God he’s apparently taken the place of, “It’s a  _rule_  Tony. We can’t break the rules.”

Tony’s so mad he could  _spit_  and if he doesn’t leave he’s going to  _hit_  the idiot, so he whirls to the door, slamming through it, and a part of him wants to scream “Fuck you and your fucking rules!” and a greater part of him wants to cry, and if he does one he’ll do both, so he says nothing, choking back the lump in his throat.

***

Work is  _unbearable_. He keeps looking over at Gibbs, looking for any hint of the laughing  _happy_  person that he saw last night, but it’s buried deep as it ever was and Tony  _mourns_ , deep and painful. He could cry if he let himself, but he won’t because – because.

They’ve caught another case and the victim has some interesting connections to some hush-hush project in the Pentagon and Gibbs snaps out the order to hack in like it’s  _normal_ , and the really really fucking sad thing is that it  _is_. And something dark and angry in Tony’s head snarks about rules only mattering when Gibbs decides they do, and it’s probably that still burning surge of anger that makes him actually say, “You do realize that’s illegal right Boss?”

Tim and Ziva give him mildly confused looks, but Gibbs meets his eyes straight on, and there’s something about his shoulders that makes Tony think he knows what’s coming, “Really DiNozzo?”

Tony offers a one shouldered shrug, and there is a reason he’s good at the undercover work, he’s a fucking  _terrific_ actor, and he can force his voice to be casual when he wants to  _scream_ , “Well, I know how you love to follow rules. Thought I should point it out.”

Tim and Ziva look even more confused, and it’s worth it for the way Gibbs flinches. It’s not a flinch that anyone would notice, but Tony has made a  _profession_  from following Gibbs, and he knows a flinch when he sees one. He holds Gibbs’s gaze and flat out  _refuses_  to be the first one to look away, and the staring contest is interrupted by Tim’s hesitant voice, “Uhh Boss? I’ve got it.”

Gibbs tears his eyes away, and if his voice is slightly hoarse when he orders Tim to put it on the plasma Tony gets no satisfaction out of it. Only a gnawing empty feeling in his gut where there was pure happiness last night, and God, this just might kill him. He sinks into his chair, feels a bitter smile curl at the edge of his lips. Whatever. He’s known since he met Gibbs that the man would get him killed just by who he is. Because who is,  _is_  worth dying for.

***

He stays late on Thursday, mostly to avoid going home to his empty apartment, and powers through all the paperwork that should be done anyway, some that doesn’t have to be done for a couple days, and then, because he  _really_ doesn’t want to go home, he finds himself reading the NCIS handbook out of morbid curiosity. He’s never actually read the thing before, or looked at it, it’s been under his computer tower - which has a propensity to be really damm loud if something’s not keeping the back left corner raised - for as long as he can remember. Sure enough, when he digs it out, it’s the version from 10 years ago, and the spine isn’t even cracked. There’s an impression of the corner of the computer tower etched into it so deep that it probably won’t ever come out. He passes a few hours reading it, and some of the rules make him laugh out loud, the bitterly amused sound echoing around the empty bullpen.

He especially likes the  _entire chapter_  on proper driving protocols and considers printing it out to like, frame or something. The thought really germinates then, and when he finally does go home – for no other reason than to change his clothes that are already two days old – he carefully selects an outfit that fits completely into the NCIS dress code. Not that his suits were out of dress code, but his ties were, and sometimes he doesn’t wear his gun in the right place. He fixed it all, carefully, not really thinking about why. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. He doubted Gibbs would even notice.

When he’s leaving he feels the lock click strangely in his hand, and bends down to look at it. It’s been picked recently, and he frowns, pressing against it. The only person who would pick his front door would be Gibbs, but that makes exactly  _no sense_ , and he frowns at it for a long couple minutes, before going back inside to see if anything has moved.

There’s a coffee cup in the trash.

He stares at it for so long that his eyes get dry, and he has to blink, looking away. What in the actual hell? Gibbs came here and what? Threw out a coffee cup and left? Tony makes another pass around the apartment, but nothing else was out of place. He had no idea of what to make of this development.

Why had Gibbs come here? Why hadn’t he stayed? If he wanted to talk, or fire Tony or something, why hadn’t he stayed? And if he did want to talk why hadn’t he  _called_? Or come into the office. He knew that Tony liked to work late. And yeah, okay, this was especially late, but still. It was distinctly odd.

His phone rings then, and Tony jumps a little, then laughs at himself, answering it, “Yeah?”

Gibbs’s voice is gruff and  _angry_ , and Tony is even more confused, “McCarthy broke, we’re breaking down the door in five minutes.”

An imp on his shoulder pokes him into asking, “Did you get the warrant?”

Gibbs  _growls_ , and then Tony’s listening to the dial tone. He huffs out a breath, half of a laugh, half a sigh, and shrugs his suit coat on like it’s armor, and heads out.

***

After the raid, Tony’s nursing a bruised jaw, poking at it out of masochistic curiosity, as he makes for the elevator from the evidence garage, and it’s the pain that blinds him from the fact that he’s just stepped into a small enclosed place with Gibbs. They’re alone for the first time since Tony left his house two days ago. They’re both tense, and Tony feels like if someone poked either of them they would pop. He can’t help looking at Gibbs, trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but Gibbs ignores him completely. He  _needs_  a reaction, need to see  _something_ , because he’s starting to go a little crazy. So he opens his mouth, “So, someone broke into my apartment last night.”

Gibbs’s spine goes even straighter at that, and he  _snaps_ “I don’t think that has anything to do with the job at hand Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony flinches away before he has time to think about it, and he closes his eyes for half a second, before slowly saying, “If your goal is to make me hate you you’re doing an admirable job. Agent Gibbs.”

Tony doesn’t look back at Gibbs’s face, because he doesn’t want to see his reaction to that, he really just, can’t deal with it. The elevator opens then, and he steps out, refuses to admit that he’s running away, but that’s kind of blown out of the water by the fact that he doesn’t even know what floor he just got off on until he hears the pulsing music from Abby’s lab. He walks in slowly, feeling oddly weighted down, and maybe Abby will let him lie down on her futon. He sighs heavily at the sight of her, scrubbing his hands over his face, hissing at the bruise that he managed to forget about in the last five seconds. She turns to face him, grinning bright and happy, and her face almost immediately falls at the sight of him, “Tony? What’s wrong?”

She opens her arms automatically and he gratefully steps into the hug, “It’s nothing Abbs.”

She squeezes him tighter, “You’re a lousy liar Anthony DiNozzo.”

He laughs softly, pulling away, “Only to you Abby. Do you have anything?”

She frowns at him, “Gibbs was just in here. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No. No he didn’t.”

Tony doesn’t know what it is about the way he says that that makes Abby suck in a breath and say, “Oh  _Tony_ ” and draw him into another hug, even tighter this time. “What did he do?”

He relaxes into the hug for just a second before pulling away, tugs on one of her pigtails, smiling just a little when she bats his hand away impatiently, “What did who do?”

“Gibbs! You made a move didn’t you?”

“ _What_?”

“You made a move on Gibbs didn’t you?”

“I- You  _know_?”

“Tony. I’m not  _stupid_.”

He laughs, a little incredulous, and stares at her. He  _never_ , not in a million years, thought about how the team would react to his little (giant, all-consuming) crush. It had always just been in his head that of course they would keep it hidden from everyone. They worked for a quasi-military organization after all, and while Don’t Ask had been repealed, there still was the whole  _bias_ , and this is very far from the point he reminds himself. The point was this – Abby  _knows_.

Abby, impatient with his hesitation, prods him until he shakes himself out of it, and it’s only the complete shock that makes the whole story spill out. Abby, because she’s Abby, hugs him close again when he’s done spilling his heart all over the floor, and squeezes tight. She opens her mouth, “He’s –“

She’s interrupted by McGee, who clears his throat at the door, looking between the two of them with mild interest, “Abby?”

Tony pulls away, wondering what Abby was about to say, and really hopes it wasn’t ‘right’ because he doesn’t want to deal with that. McGee, who has  _no_  understanding of subtly goes on, oblivious, “Gibbs said you needed my help with the computer?”

Abby’s still looking at Tony, biting her lip, and Tony silently begs her to keep it all to herself, and she nods after a moment, “Timmy have I ever  _needed_  your help? No. I have not. But I would appreciate it, yes. Come on over.”

Tim brushes past the two of them, and gives Tony a strange look, “Tony? Gibbs is looking for you. Seems pissed.”

Tony laughs, and from the way Abby flinches a bit, it’s not a good laugh, “Yeah. There’s a shock.”

Gibbs scowls at him when he reaches the bullpen, “Where have you been?” He opens his mouth to respond but Gibbs cuts him off, “I don’t care. Elroy is in interrogation, get in there.”

And just like that something  _snaps_  in Tony’s gut, and he  _can’t_  deal with this anymore, literally can’t. So he does the same thing he does when he’s undercover, drawing up another person, someone who  _can_  deal with this, and wraps himself in it.

Professional. He needs to be professional.

He’ll follow all the rules. Every single one.

***

It goes on like that for four days. Agent DiNozzo is unfailingly professional. Agent DiNozzo is calm. Agent DiNozzo doesn’t bend when Agent Gibbs steps in close and glares. Agent DiNozzo doesn’t really care what Agent Gibbs thinks of him. Agent DiNozzo knows that Agent Gibbs needs cause to fire him (Agent DiNozzo also remembers Agent Gibbs’s over the top reaction to the suggestion that he leave the team, and thinks idly that it’s probable that his job is pretty damm safe). Agent DiNozzo, most importantly, is  _not_  in love with his boss, which helps. Tony wraps himself in this completely false persona of Agent DiNozzo, the smooth professional who would never even consider falling for his asshole of a boss, and refuses to let Gibbs hurt him anymore.

This has roughly the same effect as refusing to believe gravity exists and he can fly, but it makes him feel just a little bit better to be resolved.

Then everything changes on the fourth day. Ziva and Tim have fled from the bullpen. He is aware that things must be difficult for them, but he doesn’t know how to make it any better, so he tries not to worry about it. Ziva’s just rounding the corner coming back when Gibbs has the balls to ask, “Are you going to be done being pissed at me anytime soon?”

Tony stares at him for a long moment, incredulous, and there are  _so many_  things he wants to say to that. ‘Oh yes, let me just forget my broken heart, it wasn’t doing me any good anyway’, ‘Fuck you’, ‘I’m sorry’, ‘Fuck you’ and, most damningly, ‘I love you you stupid fucking  _bastard_ , but right now I want to kill you and also fuck you’ but luckily Agent DiNozzo knows exactly how to respond to this, and the words rise up without a conscious decision, “I don’t think that has anything to do with the job at hand Agent Gibbs”.

Gibbs grimaces, hand tightening around his pen so hard Tony can almost hear it creak in protest, after a moment he tosses the pen down, grunts “Coffee” and leaves.

Tony allows himself the luxury of looking after him for a split second before turning his focus away again, sighing down at his desk softly. He’s aware of Ziva’s gaze on the both of them, flipping back and forth like she’s at a tennis game. He ignores her questioning look and Gibbs comes back a few seconds later, and Tony refuses to make any comment about the mostly still full cup that Gibbs moves out of the way to make room for the new one. A few minutes after that Tim wanders back up, looking like someone just hit him on the head with a dead fish (which Tony knows, because of how Tim was actually hit in the head with a dead fish just a few cases ago). Ziva, apparently tired of being silent, stands, “Gibbs what have you done to Tony?”

Gibbs doesn’t so much as look up, “I haven’t done anything to Tony. He’s fine.”

Ziva makes a disbelieving noise, crossing her arms, “He  _is not_. What is going on Tony?”

“I’m fine Agent David.”

She growls a little, frustrated, turns to McGee, who’s still got the dead fish look on his face, “McGee, don’t you agree? Something is most definitely  _wrong_  with Tony. Gibbs says he’s fine.”

That’s when really everything changes. McGee blinks at Ziva slowly, and he sinks into his chair, “I don’t think that has anything to do with the job at hand Agent David.”

Tony’s head snaps over to look at McGee, wondering if that’s a joke, or a game, or – he doesn’t even know. He’s staring at Tim, who’s blushing beet red, and the kid has to clear his throat twice before he can say, “Agent David, Miss. Scuito wanted to see you.”

Ziva makes a sound of choked rage before sweeping out of the room. And Tony cannot look away from Tim, wondering what the hell is happening right now. What did Abby tell him? She must have lied. Told him it was a prank Tony was pulling maybe? And Tim decided to play along for some insane McGee-ish reason? Tony flicks a glance to the clock, but he can’t get Tim alone for another half an hour, which is  _maddening_. He wants to know what Abby’s told him, just so that he doesn’t screw it up. He can’t go down there now though, since Ziva will be down there now. So he waits anxiously, while Tim fills out paperwork that isn’t due until next week, and Gibbs glares at them both, and when five o’clock finally rolls around he’s out of his chair faster then he’s been all week, watching Tim get ready to go and matching speeds with him so they get the elevator together.

He has no idea what to say, no fucking clue, so he lets the Agent DiNozzo character melt away and trusts his gut, leaning back against the back wall of the elevator, trying desperately to sound like this is all a hilarious joke when he asks, “What  _are_  you doing Timmy?”

McGee half smiles, even as he blushes again, clearing his throat, “Abby explained everything.” Tony  _really_  wants to know what the hell Abby told him, “And I happen to agree with your side of the” McGee stumbles, looking for a word, “thing.”

Tony blinks slowly, okay, maybe Abby just told Tim that he and Gibbs had an argument or something? He tests the waters, “Really?”

McGee just grimaces and shrugs, looking deeply uncomfortable, and Tony can’t help but smile, because even if Tim has no idea what’s really going on Abby does, and she wouldn’t have gotten Tim onto his side if she didn’t agree with him about all of this. And it feels ridiculously good to have someone on his side, “Thanks Tim.”

McGee smiles a little, shrugs again, “Abby keeps calling him a stupidhead. She says only someone incredibly stupid would do this when they were  _obviously_  in love.”

Every  _single_  part of Tony freezes with shock. First of all,  _love_? Abby thinks Gibbs is in love with him, what the fucking hell is Abby talking about, isn’t she paying attention even a little bit? And then, also, she actually told Tim the  _truth_? Nothing makes sense in Tony’s head for a long moment, because if McGee knows shouldn’t there be more of a reaction, like, he doesn’t know, but  _something_. Comments about kissing a guy, snark about sleeping up the ladder? _Something_. But McGee just seems relaxed, a little embarrassed, but relaxed, and then the elevator doors open, and McGee grimaces, “Crap. Ziva looks pissed. I’ll go head her off so she doesn’t kill your boyfriend. Have a good night.”

Wait Ziva knows too now? Wait –  _boyfriend_? Nothing in Tony’s life makes any sense at the moment. He blinks a few times and decides to roll with it, huffing out a disbelieving laugh as he says, “I think my  _boyfriend_  could probably take her. But thanks again.”

McGee smirks a little, “Thank Abby. She’s getting Ducky on our side too. It’s a whole new ballgame tomorrow.”

Tony grimaces around a laugh, trying to fight off the bone deep shock he’s going through at the moment, “Don’t use sports metaphors Timmy, it draws attention to the fact that you’ve never played any.”

Tim just grins at him and waves as he goes over to guide Ziva out of the building, and Tony walks to his car on autopilot.

***

He can’t get over the fact that the team knows about this, that Tim at least, is on  _his_ side, and he thinks Ziva will be too. And on top of that, Abby  _and_  Tim think that Gibbs is in love with him. He has no fucking idea what to do with that information.

He feels oddly like he’s been wrung out, so he drives to his favorite bar, a dark quiet place with wooden booths and a bartender named – honest to God – Moe. He slips into his booth and smiles his thanks when Moe hands him a Guinness, he stares straight ahead at nothing, for a long while, trying to work this out in his head, but he  _can’t_ , and he finally pulls out his phone to text Abby.

_What the hell did you tell McGee?_

Abby’s response comes barely five seconds later,  _The truth of course. But to be fair, I thought he knew. I don’t know how he didn’t._

 _Abby, no one is supposed to know_.

 _Don’t be stupid Tony_.

This is not a response that inspires confidence, and Tony sighs into his beer.  _Are they pissed at me_

 _No! Why would they be?_  
  
Tony rolls his eyes,  _Sleeping with the boss is not exactly acceptable workplace behavior Abbs._

 _Wait you actually slept with him?!?_  Tony groans  _And anyway, slapping people on the back of the head isn’t exactly acceptable either. We don’t work in a normal workplace Tony._

Well. She has a point.

***

That night Tony sleeps for three hours straight for the first time since this happened, which is probably at least partly due to just how shitily he has been sleeping up till now, and strange dreams keep him on that edge of half sleep most of the night.

He wakes up from one he can’t remember around six, and gets dressed carefully, slipping his gun onto his hip before he walks out the door. When he gets into the office the first person he runs across is Bill from security, who checks his ID every morning. Bill, Tony is convinced, thinks he’s one of those guards at Buckingham palace, because in the six years that Bill’s been at the front door Tony has never seen him so much as blink. This morning though, everything is different, and Bill offers him a small smile and  _claps him on the shoulder_.

It’s one of the more terrifying moments of Tony’s life.

When he gets into the office everyone else is already there, and it is really strange to see Tim and Ziva wearing clothing that actually falls into the NCIS protocols of what an agent should wear. Ziva actually has her hair under control and Tim is wearing a suit and tie that actually fit. Tony silently bets all the money in his pockets that Abby dressed him. He opens his mouth to ask what the plan is exactly, because if any of them think he has any clue as to what’s happening, they’re going to be disappointed. But Gibbs sweeps in then, and both Ziva and Tim try and fail to force their faces and body language into something that they obviously think screams ‘professional’ but actually just makes it look like they’re trying not to laugh.

Their four desks are silent as the grave for the next hour, and Tony can see Tim flinching every few seconds, clearly wishing for something to do. Finally around eight Gibbs’s phone rings, and Tony isn’t imagining the relief in Gibbs’s voice when he answers. Gibbs stands to tell them to gear up, only to turn and find them all already standing there silently, waiting for him, and if Tony had a secret invisible spy camera, he’d want a picture of Gibbs’s face right in that moment.

***

The crime scene is terrible. If this is the stuff he’s been putting Tim and Ziva through for the last four days he’s got to remember to apologize, a lot, as soon as possible. Ziva hangs half a foot behind Gibbs and reminds him about every single warrant that they’ll need to do what they want to do, and it seems like Tim has swallowed the NCIS manual. Tony works mostly on autopilot, making sure to throw himself in front of Gibbs anytime it looks like the man’s going to blow, because if anyone is going to lose their jobs over this it’s going to be him.

Tim and Ziva seem to think the whole thing is hilarious, and he vacillates between being amused as well, and annoyed at them for how they make this look like a joke, like it isn’t tearing him apart. He’s desperate to know what they’re thinking about all of this, but he really can’t figure it out, and besides, he’s just – he’s tired.

They get back to the office and Tim and Ziva are practically giddy with whatever’s going to happen next. Gibbs leaves, because his coffee cup is empty, and he wants to be wherever Tony isn’t probably. Tim immediately dives towards the phone as soon as he’s out of earshot.

“Stupidhead is on his way, over.”

“Acknowledged”

Tony blinks at them, and asks carefully, “You guys have codenames?”

Ziva sighs, “Abby insisted. Said we sounded more like secret agents this way.”

Tony swallows, feels a half smile curl at the edge of his mouth, and presses his fingers against his eyelids, “When did all this happen?”

“This morning. At 6. Abby made us all come in early for a strategy session.” Well, that explains that then. Abby’s press ganged them all into supporting Tony’s stupid crush.

God. Maybe Gibbs  _is_  right. This is certainly not helping them catch killers. He can’t say that to them though, so he just lets his mouth go on autopilot, “What’s my codename?”

“Loverboy!” Ducky rings out, and he has to close his eyes as everyone cracks up. He knows, he  _knows_  it’s not supposed to be cruel, that they all seem to have mistaken this for a fun game or something, but it still stings a little, and he needs a second before he can come back from that.

“Of course.” He says, summoning up a smile from somewhere. Because, yeah, of course.

Tim snaps his fingers and that must be another signal because everyone immediately shuts up and stops laughing, turning their attention to the scene in autopsy. Tony watches Ducky play with Gibbs, observing the scene without reacting, like he’s two steps removed from it all, because he has no clue how to even begin to process anything that’s happening right now.

When Gibbs is leaving autopsy he meets the camera’s gaze straight on, and stares as he takes a slow sip of coffee. Tony stares back. Gibbs knows they’re watching. Gibbs always knows these things. And Tony can’t think that whatever sympathy or whatever Gibbs is feeling for him is going to keep all their jobs safe for long if this keeps up.

This idea is confirmed when Gibbs gets to Abby’s lab.

“If you say ‘NCIS protocol dictates’ you are  _fired_.” Gibbs’s voice echoes through the quiet lab, into the speakerphone, and Tony and Ziva’s mouths drop open. Tony wonders how they  _thought_  taunting Gibbs was going to turn out for them.

Gibbs seems to realize he’s gone a little far, and tries to back pedal, but Abby won’t let him, and Tony sighs when she suggests a third rule number one. It won’t work. It just – it really won’t work. Tim goes off to find Abby, and Tony turns the opposite way to find Gibbs, knowing with heavy certainty what he’s got to do.

He finds Gibbs in the stairwell, and walks towards him, pulling off his badge and his gun as he goes, reaching out to grab Gibbs’s wrist, pressing them both into his hands forcibly. Gibbs takes them automatically, and then actually physically recoils when he realizes what he’s holding. Tony speaks before he can get together enough to have something to say, “I won’t do this. I won’t sit here and watch you tear down everything. It’s fine if you want to chase me away, I’m a big boy and I’ll live, but I won’t let you throw away everything else that’s good in your life. I understand that you’re a master of self sabotage, and you’ll do whatever you want to. But I don’t have to watch you do it. Which is good because like it or not Gibbs I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I refuse to watch you do this OK? So here. My desk will be cleaned out by the time you get back tomorrow morning.”

It feels distinctly strange to hand over his badge and gun. He’s never done it before. He knows Tim did, and he knows Ziva did. But he could never give it up. He takes the stairs three at a time, letting the door swing shut behind him as he makes for his desk, he sweeps everything off of it in one arm, into a file box that’s sitting behind McGee’s desk. He roots through the drawers for the few things he wants to keep. On his desk he leaves his Mighty Mouse stapler, his letter opener, and his American pie coffee mug. He doesn’t know what Abby and Tim would want, but he figures they won’t hesitate to call and bug him for something anyway so.

He goes home then, slipping out the hole in the NCIS security that only he and Gibbs and Abby know about just so he doesn’t have to run into anyone. When he gets home it’s still the middle of the afternoon, and he drops his box on the couch, strips off his suit and practically dives into the shower. He stays there for a long while, trying to wash away this day, trying to wash away the last ten years.

When he gets out he’s starving. He wraps a towel around his waist as he ambles into the kitchen.

Gibbs is sitting on his couch.

Tony stares for a second, thrown completely off guard, and clears his throat, recovering, “You know, every time you pick my lock I’ve got to fix it or it won’t close right again.”

He moves towards the kitchen, trying to give himself time to think about this, opens the fridge and pulls out a Gatorade.

“I figured we should talk.”

Tony laughs, actually full out laughs at that, grinning a little in genuine amusement, “Really? What gave you that idea Gibbs?”

“Shut it Tony. It’s my turn now.” Tony is way too well trained by this man to fight a direct order like that, and he swallows back another comment. Gibbs gives him a look and starts speaking, “Don’t quit the team.” Tony opens his mouth, realizing for the first time that his badge and gun are sitting on his coffee table. He briefly entertains the thought of picking up his gun and shooting Gibbs with it. “I talked to Abby, bought her flowers” Gibbs sounds somewhere between amused and resigned, “It’s fine Tony. I’m not sabotaging my life or whatever you were talking about. I was just pissed.”

Tony scrubs a hand through his wet hair, eyes fixed on his badge, “That’s not –that’s not really the point Gibbs.”

“Then what is the point?”

Tony is so fucking tired, “I’m in love with you. You get that right? I mean, it was bad enough, the last ten years, but at least then I still had hope you know? But now – I can’t work with you everyday Gibbs. Jethro. It’s turning me into someone I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be Agent DiNozzo.” He chances a look up then, and Gibbs is giving him that thousand yard stare. Tony vaguely remembers a time that this stare made his hair stand up on end, but that’s been years, now it just makes his skin flush and his mouth dry. It’s ridiculously heady to be the focus of all that attention. He coughs around a lump in his throat and continues, “And I don’t know how else to deal with this.”

Gibbs is still staring at him, mutters “You seemed to have gotten over it pretty fast.”

Tony stares at him, “ _What_? What part of these last few days makes you think I’m  _over_  any –“ and just like that realization dawns and he sucks in a breath, “Oh you stupid bastard. Oh you stupid fucking bastard.” Gibbs looks vaguely annoyed at the repetition, but Tony continues because it all  _fits_ , “You came here that first night, you came here, the door was picked and a coffee cup was in the trash. But it takes you a good hour to drink a coffee that size doesn’t it? So you were here at least that long waiting for me. And when I didn’t come home – when I didn’t come back you thought I’d what, gone out to a bar to pick up a girl?” There’s a flicker on Gibbs’s face that’s confirmation enough, “Oh my God Gibbs you stupid fucking bastard.”

And now Gibbs looks really annoyed, and stands, “Are you telling me you didn’t?”

“I was at work!” Gibbs’s face shows shock for a split second and Tony can’t help a short laugh, “I was at work because I didn’t want to go home because some asshole had just broken my heart and I didn’t want to sit alone in my apartment and think about him.” Tony laughs a little again, because this is all kinda funny if you ignore the heartbreak, “What did you come here for anyway?”

“To apologize.”

Tony almost  _falls down_  in shock, staring at Gibbs like he’s just grown a second head, which in terms of Gibbs would actually be  _less_  surprising. He breathes out, “ _What?_ ”

Gibbs scowls at nothing, just looking angry and frustrated, bites it out like the words actually hurt him, “To. Apologize.”

“You. Were going to say you were. Sorry. To me.”

Gibbs kicks at the chair, just to expand energy Tony thinks, “Yes. I was.”

“I – You – Wha-“

Gibbs interrupts his stumbling, and he looks pissed “I love you.” Tony gapes, and Gibbs repeats himself, still looking ridiculously pissed that he’s saying this, and Tony can’t help but smile, “I just – I love you alright? Can we be done with this please?”

And Tony has to laugh,  _has to_ , reaching out to draw him in, kisses him, and it’s still easy, still perfect, even though Tony is laughing a bit against Gibbs’s mouth, “You. You are sleeping on the couch. And if you try to throw me out again I’m going to kill you.”

Gib –  _Jeth_  presses their foreheads together, and smiles back, “Yeah. Alright.”

***

Epilogue

***

And, okay, maybe he forgave Jeth a little easily, but the thing is Tony apparently has a pretty big weakspot for Jeth admitting that he’s sorry and that he loves him in the space of ten seconds. He really does make him sleep on the couch though, for the next four days, as punishment. Jeth points out on Thursday that he has his own bed at home and Tony explains to him that that is not in the spirit of things.

And he actually does do it, spends four nights on the couch without complaint, and doesn’t even take it out on him at work (more than usual), so on the fifth night Tony drags him into his bedroom, and they slide together there as easily as they do everywhere else.

The day after that the whole team comes over to help Tony pack his things into boxes, because apparently, according to Abby, he’s moving into Gibbs’s place. Tony raises his eyebrows at Jeth, who just raises his eyebrows back and shrugs.

Getting married goes much the same way about a month later. Abby busts into the basement on a Saturday morning, tosses them both suits in garment bags and shoos them out the door and all the way to Vermont. Tony raises his eyebrows at Jeth, who smiles wide, and nods a little, as they get in the back of Abby’s hearse. Tony laughs.

And it was an insane uphill climb getting here, but Tony wouldn’t trade what he’s got for the world.


End file.
